Vi Et Animo: The 145th Hunger Games
by Semi Serious
Summary: Another year, another Hunger Games. Another 23 lives snuffed out as a twisted form of entertainment. Who will emerge victorious this year? Does your tribute have the guts? OPEN SYOT
1. 01 - Prologue

**01 - Prologue**

* * *

Laika Kameko (47) - District Ten. Victor of the 114th Hunger Games.

* * *

It has been barely over three decades since Laika's Games, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Her lamps stay lit all night, driving away the darkness that threatens to take her sanity. The fireplace in her living room is never used, never touched. She'd always wanted one, dreaming as a little girl of sitting in front of them in frosty winters and chilly mornings, but now she can barely even look at it. She thinks that the Capitol builders installed it to make a point: _remember what you did._

Even the Capitol was surprised at her brutality towards the three youngest tributes in that cabin in the woods, tiny twelve year olds who shouldn't have survived the bloodbath. She remembers approaching the cabin after spotting the smoke billowing from the chimney, she remembers hearing the childrens' excited voices, she remembers little Silas from her district opening the door when she knocked and welcoming her in.

She doesn't remember when it turned hostile.

But within two minutes of being in the cabin, it did. Or rather she did.

The tape was played during her interview, but she didn't—couldn't—watch.

She remembers the aftermath though; the blood, the bodies, her dagger in Silas's neck. She remembers his glassy eyes, his open mouth, and the feeling that coursed through her when she retrieved her dagger. It wasn't disgust. She was elated. Closer to coming home.

Now she wishes that she never did.

The fire in the cabin was still burning after her massacre, and after dragging the bodies outside she remembers sitting down in front of it. Holding out her blood-stained hands, kicking off her boots to warm up her toes. As the heat started to seep into her body, so did the guilt, so did the horror.

She was still in the cabin when the careers found her. Laika fought tooth and nail against them. She doesn't know how she managed to take down two of them and survive unscathed.

Five kills in one day. The interviewer said that it was a record.

It was beaten three years later by a particularly bloodthirsty career, racking up a total of seven kills in a matter of hours. He, himself, was killed the next day. By falling out of a tree of all things. Laika didn't watch his Games, she hasn't watched any since she won beside her daughter's, although little Bandit didn't make it past the first day, but she'd heard the gossip around the district in the handful of times she'd left her house during those Games.

With the 145th Games approaching, Laika has started her stocking up of food and things that she might need over the course of them. Blankets to cover her windows (the curtains still let in light and as a result, shadows), medicine in case she gets sick, buckets of beans and grains, and a sizeable amount of liquor.

Games season is the only time that she lets herself drink. Despite her haunting memories and constant guilt, she's proud of the fact that she's never succumbed to drugs or alcohol like some of the other Victors. She doesn't want to give the Capitol what they want; the satisfaction of seeing her break down considering that she didn't do it in her Games, didn't do it in the ten years that she was a mentor for, didn't do it when they reaped her sweet Bandit who'd turned twelve only three weeks before the Reaping.

But during the Games she lets herself forget. Forget Silas's glassy eyes and focus on his laughter on the train ride. Forget Bandit's terror when her name was called and remember her plucking the flowers from the bushes in the back garden.

When the Victory Tour is over she goes back to living. She has to or the Capitol will have won.

She goes back down to the market, down to the river, and ignores the looks she gets from people who remember her and her Games. She avoids the farm where Silas's elderly parents still live with their other son and their grandkids, but she sends them flowers every year on what would be his birthday, on Reaping Day and again when the Games have ended. All with the same notecard: _I'm sorry._

Laika doesn't want anyone to look at her the way Silas's parents and older brother had during her Victory Tour. Their eyes were filled with pure hatred and she doesn't blame them. For a while, she was terrified of them turning up at her house with daggers similar to the one that she used to take the life of their son. She might have done something similar if she lived in the same district as Bandit's killer. She'd never been good with a spear, but she'd be willing to learn it in order to avenge her baby girl.

So during Games season, she drinks. She drinks to forget. She drinks to remember.

And she prays.

One prayer for Silas. One prayer for his family. Two for Ilana and Samuel, the two other twelve year olds in that cabin. One for Bandit. One for herself.

One for the two Victors who have to mentor the two children of Ten. Children who more than likely won't come back.

One for them, too.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that introduction to Laika, a scarred Victor from Ten. Whilst she won't be mentoring, I'm still very fond of her. Maybe I'll write a fic exploring her Games one day. What do you think of her?**

**Anyway. This is an SYOT and there are some rules:**

**1) No submissions by review. Submissions will be done through Google Forms (with the link on my profile), allowing those of you without an account to submit a tribute. If any tribute is submitted in the reviews then they will _not_ be accepted.  
2) I expect the forms to be detailed. I want to see effort put into those tributes submitted, and I reserve the right to decline forms if accepting that tribute would mean that I would have to essentially create the character myself.  
3) This should go without saying, but no Mary Sues or Gary Stus. These will not be accepted. Your tributes should be realistic.  
4) There is a maximum of three tributes per person and if you do submit three, then one _must_ be a bloodbath.  
5) The tributes from 1, 2 and 4 will be in the career pack. Whilst the career pack might recruit other districts, a career will not desert it in order to ally with an outlying district.  
**

**Thank you for reading, and I can't wait to see your guys' submissions.**


	2. 02 - Distict Ten Reapings

**02 - District Ten reapings**

* * *

Augusta "Gus" Hirsch (12).

* * *

_Two days before the reaping_

It's Gus's twelfth birthday and she'd rather be anywhere but the Justice Building, signing up for tesserae. It's not even the fact that she'll have three extra entries in the reaping bowl on Monday morning that makes her angry, but the fact that she and her daddy spend hours and hours working on the farm and they don't even earn enough to ensure that her baby sister doesn't go to bed hungry every night. They work and they're allowed to stay in the farmhouse adjacent to the farm. They don't actually get paid any money, which makes feeding themselves almost impossible.

There are a few other kids picking up their rations as well but none of them talk. Gus's foot taps impatiently against the floor as she waits, stomach growling. Her daddy had given her a few of the necklaces they'd stolen from one of the richer houses last night to sell, so maybe she can buy herself a little snack out of the money she receives. He doesn't need to know; she can just tell him that things didn't sell particularly well. It's her birthday, after all, so she deserves a treat.

A peacekeeper comes out with jars of oil and grain, calling Gus's name when he gets to the desk. She moves forward, loading the jars into a small wagon she'd found behind a shed on the farm. She leaves without thanking him.

The heat hits her as soon as she steps outside of the Justice Building. She squints, shading her eyes with her free hand as she drags the wagon behind her and heads to the marketplace. It's busy, and it's considerably harder to weave in and out of the crowds with a full wagon than she anticipated. Gus scopes out the stalls, looking for ones that sell necklaces similar to the ones currently in her pocket. And ones that are manned with women; they're the most generous when it comes to bartering.

She approaches one stall, pretending to admire a few of the necklaces and rings on show. The woman behind the stall eyes her sadly, eyes flitting between her and the wagon behind her. Gus didn't even think about using the tesserae as a bargaining tool, but it's a damn good idea.

Reaching into her pocket, Gus pulls out one of the necklaces. A silver one, with a pendant in the shape of District Ten. She doesn't know how much it's worth, although she knows that it won't reach anywhere near that price anyway; the people here are struggling as much as she is. The initial offering would probably be around seven coins, one more coin than the cost of a loaf of bread, but Gus is sure that she can get more for it.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she says, looking up. The woman pretends as if she wasn't just staring at her, but Gus knows otherwise. "How much would you offer for this?"

"I can do nine coins," The woman says. Higher than Gus was expecting, but still not as much as she wants. Two loaves of bread sound lovely right now.

Gus looks between the woman and the wagon, acting conflicted. "Is there any way you could go to twelve? It's just, it was my momma's and I—"

"How about eleven?" The woman asks. One coin less than she was aiming for, but she'll take it. It's not like she's losing any money on it or anything.

"Deal," Gus beams and hands it over. The woman hands back a handful of coins. When Gus counts them there's thirteen, and she looks up in surprise. The woman winks at her and presses a finger to her lips. Gus grins and hurries off with a quick thank you.

_Result, _she thinks as she walks away.

She spends an hour in the marketplace haggling. She ends up with a total of forty coins, thirty seven once she buys an iced bun at the bakery—he knocks off a coin on account of it being her birthday—and she enjoys it on the way home. This month has been particularly hard, hence why she'd had to sign up for tesserae today instead of waiting until after the reaping, so it's nice to not feel as hungry as she has over the past few days.

Dinner hasn't been served for the past two nights, and breakfast and lunch have consisted a slice of stale bread with butter. At least this week they could eat well, after their daddy's trip to the marketplace Monday afternoon. It would be closed tomorrow, and Monday morning but it would be open after the reaping when people wanted to celebrate another year without getting chosen. Pastries and cakes galore. Her daddy has already promised that they'll buy a cake once the reaping finishes to eat after dinner. It'll be a joint 'you got through your first reaping' cake and a 'happy belated birthday, Gus!' cake.

She can already taste the icing.

Her daddy meets her at the door when she reaches the farm, taking the handle of the wagon from her. Gus collapses on the bench by the door, out of breath after having pulled the wagon uphill for the last twenty minutes. She kicks off her shoes, placing them with the other workers' shoes, and follows her daddy into the kitchen.

He puts the tesserae into their cupboard and when he straightens up, Gus hands him the coins she'd received at the market. She waits as he counts them, leaning against the kitchen counter as he does so.

"Could have done with a few more," is all he says. Gus drops her gaze to the floor. "Didn't you tell them it was your birthday?"

"I did," Gus murmurs. "I even used the tesserae to make 'em feel sorry for me. Sorry."

"I knew I should've made Celeste go with you," he tuts. "Probably would've sold more if she was crying that she was hungry."

Gus rolls her eyes. She loves her daddy, she really does, but he's so critical of everything that she does. It's true that she would've sold more if Celeste had been with her—even though she's only six, that girl knows how to work people—but she thinks that she's done a good job on her own. It's not really fair to dig at her when he was barely even awake when she left. She's done more today than he has.

"Maybe you should have come with me yourself," she snaps. "You wouldn't have got more than thirty seven coins either, and you know it."

"I'm not a twelve year old girl who has to take tesserae and has a dead mom, Gus," he argues back. "I can't play the sympathy card like you can and you know that. Maybe next time I'll send Celeste on her own; I always knew she'd end up more useful than you."

Gus winces. She feels sick as she pushes past her daddy and out of the kitchen, storming to their room. He doesn't bother to follow her.

Happy birthday to her.

-XX-

_Reaping Day_

Gus's Reaping Day starts with an apology.

It's just past six in the morning when she wakes up, Celeste's warm body curled into her side, an arm over Gus's stomach. She stares up at the ceiling for a while before untangling herself from her sister and swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. She notices that her daddy's makeshift bed on the floor is empty, but she doesn't think much of it before she heads to the bathroom to get ready.

She turns on the shower, shivering as she steps into the cold streams of water. She has the time to boil water for a bath, but it takes a while and she's impatient, so she simply suffers for all of ten minutes as she washes her hair and the grime from her body. Working on the farm means that you're rarely ever clean; Reaping Day is probably the only day that everybody actually looks presentable.

When she's done she climbs out and wraps herself in one of the towels. She gets changed into a plain grey shirt and a pair of trousers, not wanting to put on her reaping clothes until she actually has to. Her daddy will have a fit if she gets them dirty, and considering that they haven't spoken since their argument on her birthday, Gus doesn't want to cause any more tension between them. Celeste has already caught on that something isn't right, and Gus doesn't want her to have to worry like that.

Her daddy is in the kitchen when Gus enters. She blanks him, grabbing a cup from their cupboard, filling it with water from the tap before grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter. The owners had come by yesterday with a basket of fruits for the kids eligible for the reaping. How generous. Gus would have preferred a living wage, though.

"Are you still mad at me, Gus?" Her daddy asks as she sits down at the table once she'd finished peeling her orange.

"Yeah, I am," she nods. She doesn't elaborate.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry," he says. She doesn't look up, but the apology catches her off guard. "I shouldn't have said what I did, and I shouldn't have waited this long to apologise. I'm sorry it ruined your birthday."

Gus lets the words hang in the air for a little bit, fiddling with a piece of the orange peel that got caught underneath her nail when she was peeling it. "I'll forgive you for now," she says finally, looking up to meet her daddy's gaze. "You can make it up to me after the reaping, when we go to the marketplace. I get to pick the cake for dessert, and I get the first slice tonight."

"Deal," her daddy nods, giving her a weak smile. "How are you feeling about the reaping?"

"I'm not nervous," she says, popping an orange slice in her mouth. "Got four entries, that's all. Terrence and Etta have nine each and they're my age, so..."

They make small talk as people slowly start to get up and join them. It's one thing that Gus likes about the farm; you're never alone. Of course having ten families living under one roof, one room per family (even if they consist of eight people like Terrence and Etta's families who have an abundance of kids) can cause issues sometimes, but they're few and far betweeen.

When Celeste enters the kitchen, yawning, their daddy starts to work on a proper breakfast.

They eat quickly, and then it's time to start getting ready. Their reaping is one of the earlier ones in the Districts, starting at eight in the morning, so it's a little bit of a rush to get dressed and ready but when the reaping horn sounds at 7:30 sharp Gus is dressed in the nicest skirt and blouse that she owns, brown hair pulled back into a braid that Etta's mom does for her.

Walking to the square is always a solemn event. There's an air of dread that settles over the District, permeating everything. Even Gus, who knows that she's going to be fine, feels a little bit uneasy during the walk. She gives Celeste a piggyback most of the way, trying to keep her mind distracted as Celeste rambles on about things that only six year olds care about.

The kids and the adults separate when they reach the square. Gus bids goodbye to her daddy and Celeste, heading over to the sign-in booth with Etta and the other kids of the various workers at the farm. They separate once they're all signed in, heading off to the various age pens. Etta squeezes Gus's hand as they wait, and even though the pair aren't the closest of friends, it makes Gus feel slightly comforted. She squeezes back, and Etta gives her a small smile.

Gus focuses on the victors sitting at the back of the stage, staring at the handful of them, wondering if this year will be the year that they add to their count. District Ten hasn't had a win in her lifetime, so it's unlikely, but she can dream. The District could do with the extra food.

It's another few minutes before the mayor takes to the stage and starts rattling off a speech about the history of Panem; the rebellion, the Dark Days, the obliteration of District Thirteen. Then he reads the list of victors. For there having been 144 Games, there's not a lot of them. Gus's gaze flicks back to those sat on the chairs. There are a few missing; some of them don't leave their houses whilst the Games are on. Gus can't say that she blames them.

The video is playes, and then their escort is eventually introduced. A tall thin man, called Alastor, with skin a similar colour to the snow that falls during the colder months, and a bright green suit with darker green polka dots on them.

"Do you think he was supposed to go to Seven but ended up here instead?" Etta whispers. Gus wants to laugh, but it dies in her throat as Alastor makes his way towards the girls' ball.

The entire district seems to tense up as he digs his hand into the ball and pulls out a slip of paper. Etta's grip is so tight that Gus is fairly sure that the circulation to her hand is cut off.

Alastor waits, his eyes sweeping over the crowd before he speaks words that chill Gus to the bone: "Augusta Hirsch."

She feels as if she's been kicked in the chest. Struggling to draw a breath she meets Etta's gaze, who just stares back at her with her mouth open. Around her, the other girls seem to catch on and there's muffled gasps as her name is called once again. Balling her hands into fists, Gus starts to move.

A scream echoes around the district as she steps into the aisle. Gus clenches her jaw when she hears it, forcing herself to keep her breath steady. Celeste continues screaming, screams that eventually fade into sobs once Gus is stood on the stage. She spots the girl in the crowd behind the rope, thrashing in their daddy's arms. He looks heartbroken himself, and Gus almost breaks down when she meets his gaze.

Alastor pays no attention to the screams of Gus's sister, instead moving onto the boys' bowl with little hesitation. Gus bites her lip hard as he walks back to the microphone.

"Vernon Yael," He calls, and Gus relaxes as much as she's able to; it's not a name that she recognises.

A stocky eighteen year old makes his way from the front of the crowd, wincing as a scream similar to Celeste's rings out across the District. Gus spots a girl in the section she was just standing in trying to push her way through. Elspeth. A girl she knows from school. Vernon must be her older brother. He joins Gus on the stage, tears brimming in his eyes.

"District Ten! Your tributes!" Alastor says, ignoring the commotion once again. Gus briefly wonders if anything will ever phase him. "Augusta Hirsch and Vernon Yael!"

-XX-

Gus barely makes it to the couch before she collapses, as if all of the strength has been sapped out of her. She lays there motionless until the door swings open and her daddy enters, Celeste in his arms. They don't say anything at first, they just hug. She holds her daddy and Celeste as tight as she can, her breath hitching as tears start to spill from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, daddy," she starts when they pull apart. "I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean?" He asks, gripping her hands as Celeste climbs onto her lap. "You don't need to apologise. This isn't your fault, Gus. It's nobody's fault."

"No... I—I'm sorry that I won't be able to come home," she whimpers. Warm tears start to spill down her cheeks. "I—you saw Vernon. If Ten's going to get a victor this year, it'll be him."

"Don't say that Augusta," her daddy's voice wobbles, but his tone remains firm. He never uses her full name. "Don't you dare; you'll come home. You have to."

"Daddy I can't," she shakes her head. "I—I'll miss you. Both of you," she glances down at Celeste who's still sobbing. "But you'll have to do it without me. You'll be fine. Celeste can fence stuff better than I can, anyway."

"That's not true," her daddy says, and pulls her into a hug once again. When he straightens up, a look of panic sets over his face as he pats his pockets. "I don't—I don't have anything for your token!"

"I do, Daddy!" Celeste shifts off of Gus's lap, digging into the pocket of her trousers. She pulls out a plastic kiddie ring, handing it to Gus. It was Gus's gift for Celeste's birthday three weeks ago; she didn't know that she still had it. Definitely not that she carries it around with her.

It fits on Gus's pinky finger, and she pulls her little sister into the tightest hug she's ever given. "I love you so much, okay? Remember that. And when the marketplace opens again, get a chocolate cake for me, okay? The one with the buttercream icing. You can have the first piece."

"I love you," Celeste is crying again, and Gus is dangerously close.

The door opens and a peacekeeper enters, telling them that their time is up.

"I'll tell momma you say hi," Gus says to her daddy during their final hug, voice cracking. "I—I'll tell her you miss her. I'll tell her how big Celeste has gotten."

Then she's left alone again, her daddy not given a chance to respond to that before the door swung shut. She stares up at the ceiling as she stretches out on the couch. Her head is starting to hurt from the crying. She twists the ring around on her finger, again and again.

She can't believe that this is truly happening. There's one small mercy, though; she'll be reunited with her momma soon. She's missed her.

* * *

Vernon Yael (18).

* * *

_Two weeks before the reaping_

Vernon's shoulders ache as he pulls the cart behind him, loaded with as much meat as they could pile on back at the farm. Beside him his older brother walks, hands in his pockets as Vernon struggles, and their younger sister is walking behind the cart, making sure that nothing falls off. Although it's not like she'd be able to put it back on if it did; Elspeth isn't exactly strong, but she'd been so insistent on coming that they couldn't just leave her at home.

With the cart as full as it is, it takes a long time for them to get to the marketplace. Elspeth starts moaning that she's bored after about twenty minutes, so Vernon is left behind as she and Gulliver run ahead, kicking dirt at each other as they race to be the first ones at a fencepost. Elspeth makes it there first after Gulliver pretends to fall over, and she's still teasing him when Vernon gets there.

"Your turn," he says to Gulliver, shifting the wooden handles from his shoulders. Every muscle in his body is screaming, and he has no idea how people manage to do this alone. The switchover is his favourite part unless, of course, it's switching to him.

Gulliver grumbles a bit, but he doesn't argue. They've done this countless of times, starting when Vernon was fifteen and Gulliver nineteen, so he just pulls the handles up onto his shoulders and starts to drag it along. Vernon wonders what it would be like if they could afford horses to pull it. It's a nice dream, but not one that will ever be real. They'll get a fair price for all of this meat, but this is money that has to last. Money that has to feed them through the winter when all they're able to sell is their milk and eggs.

Raising primarily livestock is good and all, but it's not the most consistent. If it was up to him they'd have a dairy farm, a large one, and they'd be so rich that they could buy a house down by the square and employ other people to work on their farm without raising a finger themselves. They wouldn't even have to worry about not meeting the Capitol quotas, because that's the workers' responsibility, and if they find themselves behind then they can just fire someone and rehire. The people of Ten will jump at a job; it's not like there's a lot of them going.

After almost an hour of walking and pulling, they reach the marketplace. They go around the outskirts, both brothers pulling at the cart to make it the few extra miles. Reaching the butchers is possibly the best moment of Vernon's life as Elspeth knocks on the back door. The final obstacle is the small ramp into the butcher's shop, but they make it and they're rewarded for their efforts by three pouches of coins. Gulliver counts them as Vernon and the butcher unload the meat and seems to agree that it's a fair amount because they bid the butcher farewell once he's done, and Elspeth begs to be able to pull the cart now that it's empty.

Their ma will say that they indulge their little sister way too much, but letting her pull an empty cart isn't exactly harmful.

And if she's perfectly happy to do so, then they aren't going to say no. Their own shoulders are aching, and Vernon is sure that he's pulled a muscle in his leg, so let the kid have her fun.

"So how's school going?" Gulliver asks as they walk.

"Better," Vernon shrugs. He's been struggling for a while, especially in the lead up to his final exams, but things are slowly starting to click into place. "Still don't know why I have to learn math if I'm just going to work on a farm my entire life, though. The basics of it, sure; gotta make sure you're getting the best deal, but algebra? When am I ever going to need that? I've got some homework you can help me with when we get back, though."

"You wish," Gulliver laughs. "I'm taking a nap once we get back. Nothing like a trip down to the marketplace to wear you out."

"That's true," Vernon smiles. He can feel the weariness settling into his own limbs now. A nap does sound good. "But you know what Ma's like at this time of year when things are getting busy. Blink for too long and she'll throw you out."

"I'm twenty-two, kid," Gulliver ruffles Vernon's hair. "Ma can't tell me what to do anymore."

"I hope you like sleeping rough, then," Vernon teases, ducking away before Gulliver can mess his hair up too badly.

They eventually catch up with Elspeth, sitting by the side of the dirt road with the cart beside her. "I'm tired now," she declares. "One of you two can take it."

Vernon does, and Elspeth climbs on the back. It doesn't make much of a difference, so he's still able to pull it easily uphill as they heads back to their parents' farm. At some point, Gulliver joins Elspeth, and that _does _make a difference, but the two of them are still so much lighter than the meat that they were pulling earlier, so it's alright.

They hop off just before they get to the farm, knowing that their ma will have a fit—_the cart is for pulling, not for riding in!_—and when they get back she's just coming out of the barn.

Gulliver and Vernon never do get their nap; there's too much to be done around and too few people to do it.

-XX-

_Reaping Day_

The rooster crowing pulls Vernon from his sleep on the morning of the reaping, and he buries his face into his pillow, letting out a low groan. He's never been a morning person, will never be a morning person, no matter how many times the rooster crows at the crack of dawn. He can hear Gulliver's blankets shuffling on the other side of the room, and their younger brother Brannon starts to stir too.

"Up and at 'em!" Gulliver declares a few minutes later, pulling open their curtains. With it being so early, there's not a lot of light, but the light that does filter in causes the other two boys to groan again. "C'mon, Bran—"

"If you touch me I'll throw you out of the window," Brannon warns. "Then I won't be the only one in this household with a bum leg."

"That's fine with me," Gulliver shrugs. "Means I get a pass on the heavy chores, so do your worst."

Vernon laughs at that, his brain slowly becoming less foggy with every passing minute. He's still in bed by the time the Gulliver retrieves Brannon's crutch, and the boy is able to actually get out of bed, but he scrambles out of bed up when he hears their ma leaving her room.

He's just making his bed, appearing to be productive, when she pokes a head around their doorframe. "Vern, once you're dressed do you mind grabbing the eggs from the coop? Ellie isn't feeling great."

"Yes ma'am," he answers. She gives him a small smile when she closes the door.

"I hope El's okay," Brannon says as he pulls on a pair of socks. Gulliver makes a sound of agreement from his bed where's he's pulling a button up on over his undershirt.

"She's probably just worried," Vernon shrugs. "It's her first reaping today. No one's comfortable with their name in the bowl seven times."

"Mine's in over thirty times I think," Brannon says. He starts to count on his fingers. "Thirty four? Something like that."

Vernon doesn't even have to say. They knows that he's in far too many times; six slips of tesserae every year is no joke. But he just has to make it through this year and then he's free. Then they just have to focus on getting Brannon and Elspeth through the reapings alive. Brannon only has another three years, but Elspeth is just starting. But maybe as she grows, they'll have more money. Maybe she won't have to take tesserae out once he, Gulliver and Brannon all get nicely paying jobs on the surrounding farms, or even at the butchers.

He doesn't know why he's worrying. Elspeth will be fine. Their pa had eight siblings growing up, had to take out ten slips of tesserae every year and he still made it through. There are plenty of kids that he knows in his classes who have more slips than he does, and, hopefully, than she'll have.

The trip to the chicken coop is brief. There's a chill in the air which makes him regret not bringing a jacket, so he searches as quick as he can, finding the six eggs to feed them. There's more still hidden—they have ten chickens, after all—but it's too cold for him to stay out any longer and his ma won't be mad as long as they have enough for everyone to have one at breakfast. He'll just grab the others after the reaping is over.

He runs back to the house, careful not to drop any of the eggs that he's carrying, and sets them down on the kitchen counter. Elspeth is sat at the table, looking miserable as she meets his gaze.

"You'll be fine, El," he says, and she smiles at the nickname. He only uses it when he's trying to cheer her up. "Pa said yesterday that after it's done we're going to come home, make popcorn, and watch a movie on the TV."

"Popcorn?" Elspeth echoes, looking to their ma who just nods. She seems to perk up at that, pumping a small fist in the air. "Yes! What are we watching?"

"Whatever we can find that's not obvious propaganda," their ma says, and Vernon almost chokes on his gulp of orange juice.

Elspeth is a lot more chatty over breakfast, but she clams up again when it's time to leave for the reaping. Gulliver and Venon hold her hands for the walk and Brannon, limping beside them, cracking any joke that he can think of. Most of them fall flat, but there are a few that are genuinely funny that make the four of them laugh, earning weird glances from those around them.

They reach the square fairly quickly, and bid goodbye to their parents and Gulliver. Elspeth is Vernon's responsibility now, and trying to get her to offer her finger to the peacekeeper to be pricked is a challenge. But eventually they get through after a lot of tutting and disapproving stares from the peacekeepers behind the booth. Brannon heads straight into his pen, joining up with a few friends, and Vernon leads Elspeth over to her pen at the back.

"Remember, Ells, you'll be fine," he says, crouching down to her height. "We'll be home and eating popcorn in front of the TV before you know it."

It's another struggle to get her to stay but eventually a few of her friends filter in and they're able to stop her from running over to him when he starts to leave for his pen. He smiles at Brannon as he passes him, and stands at the front with the other kids his age. Most of them have their names in a ridiculous amount of times, so it's tense, but there are a few discussions about being relieved that they never have to do this again.

They fall silent as the introductory stuff is done; the history of Panem, the list of victors, the video... all things that the people in the square have had to sit through several times. The only thing that has changed is their escort, and Vernon has to admit that he prefers this one to their last. He's a lot more subdued, a tad bit creepy if he's honest, but he's definitely a lot better than the handful of ditzy and overdressed escorts that have come before him.

Vernon digs his fingernails into his palm as the man pulls a slip out of the girls' bowl. He closes his eyes, forces himself to breathe, and prays to whoever is above that it's not his sister's name that is read out.

And it's not. He lets out a sigh of relief, but his stomach still sinks when he hears the screaming coming from behind the rope from the girl's family. He turns to see who it is, and his stomach sinks even more when he spots the tribute. She's tiny, reminds him of Elspeth, but he has to give it to her; she's keeping herself together remarkably well. He feels bad for thinking it, but she'll be a bloodbath. The screams from behind the rope eventually fade away, but the sobbing that replaces them isn't any better.

Alastor doesn't even react, he just moves towards the boys' bowl. Everyone around him tenses. The district takes a breath. Vernon sends up another prayer: please don't let it be Brannon.

His prayer is answered as "Vernon Yael" echoes around the district. It's not Brannon.

It takes a few seconds for it to click. It's him.

And at the same time he realises, and has to stop himself from falling to his knees, another set of piercing screams can be heard. Elspeth. He winces, breath catching in his throat and tears filling his eyes as he tries to ignore it and climbs the steps to the stage.

He can see her from here, trying to push through the twelve year olds. His eyes flit to the rope where he spots a kid who he assumes to be Augusta's sister thrashing in their pa's arms. Then, he searches for his own pa. He finds him a few rows back, clutching onto his ma and Gulliver. Finally, he spots Brannon who's on the floor, crutch forgotten beside him.

Vernon can't stop the tears that fill his eyes, and he's sure that his expression mirrors that of Augusta's as he turns to shake hands with her; absolute horror.

-XX-

He's not left alone for very long before his family pile in. He sits on the plush sofa, Brannon and Gulliver beside him. Elspeth sits on his lap, sobbing into his shoulder, and his parents take the seats opposite. Vernon runs his hand over the top of Elspeth's hair, willing himself not to start crying; there will be cameras at the station before they're taken onto the train and he needs to appear as strong as possible. He's already messed it up by nearly crying at the reaping.

"You're strong," his ma says eventually. She gets up from her chair, wrapping an arm around him. As much as Vernon and his siblings joke about her being way too harsh, and sometimes emotionless, she's always there where they need her. "That'll help to get you sponsors," her voice is thick with tears. "Use it as much as you can. Training, your private session, show it off. Get a good alliance."

"Maybe—" Brannon starts, but his voice cuts off. He clears his throat and tries again. "Maybe you can join the careers, they recruit outer districts sometimes."

"They do, but they won't recruit me," Vernon shakes his head. "I don't—I have muscle, but nothing to show for it. I can't use a weapon, the only thing I'm good at is hauling carts to the marketplace!"

"Then learn!" Gulliver urges. "You've got what, three full days of training and then half a day with your mentor before your private session? Learn to use something then! I don't care if it's a dagger, a bow, or a club. Just learn something. Something that you can use to defend yourself."

"Okay," he nods, and he doesn't bother pointing out that just because he learns to use something doesn't mean that he'll be able to use it in the arena. It's different stabbing a dummy than another human, and besides, he's not cut out for the bloodbath. Not at all. So how is he supposed to get a weapon? But he doesn't say it; the room is already sombre enough.

Slowly, everyone joins Vernon and their ma's hug. They return to silence again, trying not to dwell on the hell that will become their reality in the next few weeks. Even if Vernon returns, they know it won't be all sunshine and rainbows. The Games change you. They take you and they crush you up, turning you into a shell of what you once were.

Vernon would rather die. But he's not about to state that in front of his family. He has to try, anyway; for them, for all of the starving families around the district. If he wins, the Capitol will reward the district with grain and oil, even things like sugar, for a year. That'll make it worth it, he guesses, to make sure that people are getting fed.

"You need a token," his pa says, pulling apart from the hug. They can hear the door starting to open behind them. He pulls a ring from his finger, one that Vernon has never seen him take off before. "It was your great-grandfathers. I want you to have it."

It's a bit too big for his fingers, but Vernon is thankful anyway. He'll have to find a chain to put it on when he's in the Capitol. He lifts Elspeth off of his lap, standing up and hugging his pa once more as the peacekeepers announce that their time is up.

Everyone slowly filters out after final hugs and goodbyes. Vernon sits back down on the couch, running a hand over the plush fabric.

He needs to win this. If not for himself, then for his district.

* * *

**Our first reaping! What did you think of these two tributes? **

**Whilst he was editing this, my friend picked up on the length. He noted that most reaping chapters in SYOTs are between 2-3K, whereas this one sits at just over 6K. Is this a length that you want me to keep up with, or would you prefer that they were a little shorter? I'd appreciate it if you could let me know. I managed to write this in two days, so writing speed isn't an issue with the longer chapters for right now. Maybe when I return back to work, but there shouldn't be too big of a gap between updates even then. **

**Thank you very much for reading, and I hope that you deem my story worthy enough for your tributes!**


	3. 03 - District Nine Reapings

**03 - District Nine Reapings**

* * *

Persephone Barley (16).

* * *

_One day before the reaping_

The sun isn't even up when Persephone enters the training room, pulling her hair into a bun before she dumps everything she was carrying unceremoniously into a corner. She has a day before she's stood on that stage, a day before she's on the train to the Capitol. It seems surreal almost, and she's glad that she managed to talk her parents into letting her volunteer this year instead of waiting.

It's not like they could really stop her; volunteering against their wishes is still volunteering, and once you've said those words there's no taking them back. But they wouldn't be happy about it, that was for sure. But she swayed them to her side with her dedication and her strength, especially over the past couple of days. There's no time for her to slack now, not when she'll be going up against twenty three other tributes in just over a week. Some of them will have trained their whole lives too, proving a formidable challenge. She's confident that she can rise to that challenge, though.

And her parents are too. Her mom trails after her, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. Over the past couple of days, Persephone has been waking her up early so that they can get more hours in. Her mom wasn't mad about it, but she wasn't too enthusiastic the first couple of mornings.

It would be earlier if Ares didn't sneak out every morning, so she supposes her mom should be somewhat thankful. She has to wait until he's out of Victor's Village before she wakes up their parents, otherwise he'll be in a lot of trouble. Not that he isn't already, all he has to do is stand in a corner and their mom will be yelling at him, but Persephone doesn't want to add to his troubles. She's seen the way he is at school with his friends; it's like he's a different person. She has no doubt that that's due to her parents' treatment of him. Especially their mom.

"So what do you want to start with?" Her mom asks.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Something quick. I've got to meet up with Bailey and Rye this morning. The shoes that Bailey's dad made me for the reaping are ready, and we're probably going to get breakfast or something. But I'll be back to train in the afternoon. And after dinner I can fit some in too—"

"You can't be training too late, though," her mom warns. "You need a good nights sleep."

Persephone just shrugs, and sets her sights on the punching bag in the corner. Nothing like a little hand-to-hand combat to get her blood pumping. Of course, it's not likely that she'll have to use it during the games; she should be able to get a weapon during the bloodbath, but it's handy anyway.

Over the next hour, her mom coaches her through, and by the time she's done her knuckles are bruised and aching. She takes a quick shower before she leaves, waving goodbye to her parents. She promises her mom that she'll be back in time to get a full training session done in the afternoon, ready for tomorrow.

The shoe shop that Bailey's dad owns is close to the market place. Persephone jogs there, meeting up with Rye just before she heads in. When Bailey's dad sees them he instantly calls for Bailey who emerges from the back with a grin.

"Here for your shoes, my lady?" He asks teasingly, bowing. He turns to Rye. "And what's a scruffy peasant like you doing walking around with royalty?"

"Says the shoemaker," Rye raises an eyebrow. Bailey sticks his tongue out.

Persephone shakes her head at the both of them, a fond smile on her face as she pulls the money out of her pocket to pay for the shoes. Bailey shakes his head, pushing the money towards her when she slides it across the counter.

"They're on the house," he says. "Anything for Nine's next victor and her best friend."

She blushes as she takes the shoes that are handed to her, a nice polished set of flat black shoes that will go lovely with her dress, and Bailey tells them to wait for a minute whilst he gets ready to head over to the bakery.

Persephone gets a pastry when they finally make it there, and she shares it with Rye as they sit on a bench outside. Bailey gets a bread roll, running back to his house for sandwich fillings. Whilst they're alone, Rye turns to her.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" She asks. Persephone nods. "Good. I can't wait for all of the extra food we're going to get when you win."

She doesn't quite know what to respond to that—she's never been hungry in her life. Or at least not the _same _hungry—but she feels kind of proud in that her win won't just be for her; it'll be for the whole district.

Bailey returns, plate and all, and sits on the bench with them. Persephone's glad that she's managed to find such good friends; a lot of people are put off by her Career mentality, but Persephone doesn't need them. Rye and Bailey are the only people she needs to surround herself with who aren't family.

She's sure that a lot of people will want to know her after the Games, though. She'll delight in turning them away.

-XX-

_Reaping Day_

Persephone can barely sleep. Every time she starts to drift off, she starts imagining herself winning the games and the rush of adrenaline that runs through her keeps her awake. Eventually, she gives up. She gets up and pads downstairs to the training room, not bothering to wake her mom up so early. She'd trained most of yesterday afternoon, and spent a couple of hours after dinner going over survival knowledge with her dad.

She's definitely ready, she just needs the day to hurry up. This time tomorrow, she'll be on the train to the Capitol. In a couple of hours, she'll be up on the stage. It's all too much to think about, but it gives her good motivation to give the training her all; she has to be looking strong for the sponsors. She's bound to get some just for volunteering, but so will the Careers and if she wants to beat them then she needs people on her side. So she has to look her best. As her parents have drummed into her—sponsors can mean the difference between life and death—and the reaping is one of the most crucial moments. No sponsors if you cry, no sponsors if you look weak.

She won't cry, and she won't look weak, but even so; she's a volunteer from an outer district. She has to really prove herself. It'll gain her some initial sponsors, hopefully, but she'll have to keep working hard in the Capitol to keep them. And extra hard in the Games.

But she can do it. She has faith in herself. Her parents have taught her how to be the best possible tribute, and she intends to honour them.

She picks up a sword and starts swinging.

She doesn't know how long she's there for, but eventually she tires out and heads back into the house. She passes her mom on the stairs as she heads up to shower and the pair grin at each other. There's a look of pride in her mom's eyes that makes Persephone feel warm inside, and she's still smiling even when she's showered and is halfway through drying her hair.

Then the shouting starts. Her mom shouting at Ares, for seemingly nothing. Or, at least, Persephone can't pick anything out of the words she's yelling that is necessarily bad other than that he's still in bed, but of course he is because it's only seven in the morning. She waits until she hears her brother's door slam and their mom storm off before she crosses the hallway, opening his door.

He tenses as soon as he hears the door open, and Persephone steps forward. "I heard Mom shouting," she says, trying to make conversation. She wants to comfort him, but she isn't quite sure how. She looks to the door, closing it so that their mom can't hear. "She's just worried about my Games," she continues. "Don't take any of it to heart."

"I don't," Ares replies bluntly. "You'd better leave before she catches you in here."

Persephone steps forward, frowning slightly. "You don't have to be so curt with me," she points out. "I'm just trying to—"

"You know Mom doesn't like you hanging out around me," he says, turning back towards his bed. She can still hear the tremor in his voice, though, despite him trying to hide it. "Just—I'll see you at breakfast."

Persephone nods, and leaves. There's no point arguing with him and catching their mom's attention. It's true that she doesn't like them hanging out together, but Persephone is hoping that it'll change after the Games. That once she's made their parents proud, she can do what she wants. Ares isn't a bad kid, and she'd love to actually get to know him, actually have a relationship with him.

She retreats back to her room, getting changed into her reaping outfit. A nice black dress bought especially for the occasion, and the shoes that Bailey's dad had made for her. She wants to curl her hair too, but it still isn't fully dry so she decides to do it after breakfast.

Her mom and dad are especially chatty over breakfast, going over strategies and a few extra tidbits of information that she might need to know. She intends to follow in her mom's footsteps; be ruthless, kill who she can. Although she doesn't want to be a lone wolf. A few allies would be nice. Her father was kind of an underdog in his Games, two kills, one in self-defense, one in the finale. Persephone wants to distinguish herself early on. Another way of gaining sponsors.

Persephone watches silently as her mom shuts down Ares's Reaping Day plans. She heads back up to her room when he leaves, finishing getting ready. She's tempted to try and talk to him again, but it's evident that he's not having the best morning so she decides not to. She curls her hair, makes sure that she looks presentable, and then heads downstairs.

Her mom is fussing over Ares as Persephone enters the room, but she quickly flits over to Persephone. She arranges her curls (which makes no sense, but she guesses that she's just nervous), forces her to put on some lipgloss. She turns her back and Persephone catches Ares's eye, grimacing quickly so that their mom doesn't see it. The corners of her brother's lips twitching up is the closest that Ares has got to a smile for a while, so Persephone counts it as a success.

And then they leave, playing happy families the entire way down to the square. Persephone can barely contain her excitement as they reach the square, waiting on the stage with their parents for a little while before they're ushered off by the peacekeepers when people start to arrive to be signed in.

"Are you nervous?" Her brother whispers as they wait.

"Not really, no," Persephone shakes her head. She stares at the victors. "I'll be sitting beside them next year," she says. "How crazy is that?"

"It's insane," Ares chuckles. Both of them get their fingers pricked. Persephone has to force herself to calm down and not get too excited as they filter into the aisle. "Well. Good luck, I guess. I'll see you in the Justice Building."

"Thanks, kid," she smiles. She reaches out to ruffle his hair, but he's already moving to his section. Persephone takes a couple of deep breaths and heads to hers.

Rye joins her not too long after, squeezing her shoulder as she takes her place. They spot Bailey on the other side of the aisle, and he mouths 'good luck' when he spots them too. Persephone mouths back a thank you, focusing her attention on the stage when the mayor walks out.

Persephone beams when her parents' names are read out on the list of victors. She'll be on there next year, mark her words.

When their escort, Plum, takes to the stage Persephone starts to get ready. The woman, dressed in a ridiculous getup the colour of her name, totters over to the girls' bowl. Everyone needlessly tenses, and Persephone makes eye contact with both of her parents on the stage. Her mom gives her a single nod, and she turns her attention to the stage.

She doesn't even know who's name it is that's read out, Persephone just darts out into the aisle with her blood roaring in her ears, shouting that she volunteers with her hand raised high.

Her ferocity seems to take Plum by surprise, although she's definitely excited to have a volunteer, and Persephone marches up to the stage. She hears her parents whisper congratulations as she ascends the stairs, and she beams at them before she takes her spot beside Plum.

She searches for her brother in the crowd, and when she spots him he gives her two thumbs up. His friend beside him waves, but Persephone keeps her hands at her sides. But the blissful feeling of finally volunteering is quickly dashed when it's her brother's name that is called out, not someone that she doesn't care about. She feels as if she's been punched in the stomach, fighting to keep her face neutral as she looks to Plum who just stares back at her.

He takes a few minutes, but Ares eventually takes his place on the stage. Plum asks for volunteers but there's only silence, and Persephone screams internally. She's saved someone else from going into the Games; can't someone have the same courtesy to save her brother?!

But no one does, of course, and when they're instructed to shake hands Persephone pulls him into a hug instead. She can feel him shaking as she does so.

She's escorted into the Justice Building, starting to regret her decision to volunteer. This wasn't how it was supposed to work out.

-XX-

Persephone collapses onto the sofa, blinking back tears as she does so. It doesn't take long for her parents to turn up, and her stomach turns at the smile on her Mom's face. Her dad is a little more subdued, obviously shaken up about what had happened.

"That hug was a good move," her mom says, sinking into one of the armchairs. "You could really play this up, get more sponsors."

"I can't—I can't win against Ares, Mom," Persephone shakes her head.

"Of course you can," her mom insists, leaning forward. "You have your strategy, we talked about it this morning. It doesn't change just because your brother is there."

Persephone runs her hand through her hair. "What am I supposed to do if it comes down to just us? I can't kill him, Mom. You know I can't."

"Honestly, I don't think it will get down to that," Persephone's eyes widen at her mom's words. The meanness isn't even aimed towards her, but it still stings. "But if it does then you'll cross that bridge when you get to it. There's no point in worrying about it right now."

Persephone doesn't answer, leaning back in her seat.

"Here, your token," her mom reaches over, dropping a necklace into Persephone's hand. "It was my toke in my games. I want you to have it."

"Thanks," She murmurs, closing her fist around it. The peacekeepers open the door, signaling that it was time for her parents to leave. They share a final hug, she says a final 'I love you' to her dad.

Her next visitors are her friends, and she throws herself into Rye's arms as soon as she steps into the room. She forces herself not to cry; there will be cameras at the station, and if she and Ares are going into the games and they're going to get far, then they need as many sponsors as they can get.

"You'll be okay," Rye soothes. "You're more than capable of looking after yourself and Ares in that arena. You'll be fine."

And Persephone knows that they won't but she doesn't argue, clinging to her friends tightly.

She doesn't know if she's going to come back to them anymore, not if it's between her and Ares. But she's still going to try. Rye is right; she's more than capable of taking care of the two of in that arena.

It'll be alright. It _has_ to be alright. Everything will work itself out eventually. She's sure of it.

* * *

Ares Barley (14).

* * *

_One week before the reaping._

Ares needs to hurry if he wants the fields to himself for a little while before school. He rushes to get ready, trying to be as quiet as possible; his parents sleep in the room beside him and if he wakes them up there will be hell to pay. He's already in their bad books for getting caught sneaking out last night, and he doesn't even want to think about what would happen if he gets caught sneaking out again less than twelve hours later. He's hoping that they'll leave him alone this week, since Persephone's getting ready to volunteer after all, but he can't be certain. It'll get worse for all he knows.

He doesn't really want to find out.

He makes one quick trip to the kitchen before he leaves, grabbing an apple to eat on the way down to the fields, and grabs a few other things as well. Food for his friends who'd he'd meet up with later. Nobody would even notice it was missing; that was the good thing about living in Victor's Village and having two victors as parents. Everything else might suck but, hey, at least he's not going to starve.

With his backpack full he leaves, only stopping to put on his shoes and jacket. He's just leaving Victor's Village when he looks over his shoulder and notices his parents' light flicking on. He lets out a sigh of relief that he's already out of there and then takes off running through the empty streets.

The fields are also empty when Ares reaches them. The grass hasn't been cut in a while, reaching his mid-calf as he walks. As soon as he steps from the dirt road onto the grass it's almost as if everything else just disappears. It all melts away and it's just him and his thoughts and there's no thinly-veiled hatred or sharp insults aimed towards him and he's free.

Hands in his pockets, he walks around the outskirts. They're decent sized fields—not as big as the grain ones of course, but the peacekeepers would have his head if Ares walked through them—and as he walks he gazes out past the electric fence where the fields carry on stretching, eventually dipping down into a valley. There have been times where he's considered trying to escape. Just packing up his things and finding some way to get past the electric fence. It would be difficult, but he's sure that there's some way out. There has to be.

He'll never be able to gather up the courage to do it, though. Besides, what would he do once he escaped? It's not like he has any connections to any other districts that he could run to. And living in the wild isn't exactly appealing; he'd starve pretty quickly, and if the Capitol found him he'd be whisked off to become an avox, son of two victors or not.

Escaping is a nice thought, but it's never going to happen. Shaking his head, as if to clear the thoughts from it, he starts to head back to the dirt road. The streets are becoming more and more busy with people heading to the fields and kids to school. Ares heads straight to Quinoa's house, handing him half of the food that he'd stolen from his parents.

"You're a good kid, Ares," Quinoa's mom says, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He has to force himself not to flinch when he first sees the hand reaching towards him. "Thank you so much."

Ares lifts one shoulder, scuffing his sneakers against the floor. "It's no problem," he says. Quinoa comes barreling down the stairs, jacket slung over his arm as he tugs on Ares's arm and drags him to the front door. "Have a good day!" he waves to his friend's mom as they leave.

Quinoa links his arm with Ares's as they walk the familiar path to Bale's house. "Anything happened since I saw you at school?" he asks, and Ares shakes his head.

"Not really. Anything happened to you?"

"We bought my reaping clothes yesterday after school," Quinoa shrugs. "Do you know what you're wearing yet?"

"Whatever is in my closet," Ares shrugs. He doesn't see the point in getting dressed up, really. The attention is going to be on his sister when she volunteers, not him. "Probably a button up with some jeans or something. "Persephone will probably get a new dress for it, though."

"She's volunteering this year?"

"Uh-huh," Ares nods, a swell of pride in his chest. He might not necessarily agree with the Games, or the training that their parents had tried to subject him to, but he's proud of Persephone nonetheless. It was her thing, her life goal, and he was glad she was finally getting her chance. "And she'll win, of course."

"You'll have three houses in Victor's Village when she wins," Quinoa says, eyes widening. "That's hardcore."

They stop outside of Bale's house, knocking on the door. His mom opens it and they're ushered inside, Ares giving over the other half of the food as Bale runs about getting ready. It's chaos in their house; so many children and so little space, and it takes a few minutes for Bale to locate his shoes, his jacket and the science homework they have due that day, but once he does they leave. A few of his siblings, the ones that are school age at least, follow. Bale tells them to run up ahead, which they do, and the trio is left alone.

"So what were you talking about without me?" He asks, looking from Quinoa to Ares.

"Persephone's volunteering," Quinoa answers quickly, linking his and Ares's arms together again. "They're gonna have three houses in Victor's Village."

"Well, yeah, but we won't use two of them," Ares shrugs. "Nobody's been in Dad's house for a while. Maybe Persephone will grow enough sense and move out when she wins though," he can hear the bitterness in his voice. "And let me move in with her."

"Maybe," Bale echoes, frowning. "Hopefully."

The school comes into view and they hear the bell ring signaling the start of classes. Ares is glad for the distraction as the trio start to run, feet beating an uneven rhythm on the cobbled stones.

-XX-

_Reaping Day_

The sound of his mom shouting is what wakes Ares on Reaping Day. Something about him being lazy and sleeping in when he should've been getting ready. Groggy, he pushes himself up on his elbows, running a hand over his face as his mom continues to shout. He doesn't bother trying to defend himself; it'll only escalate the situation even more which is something that he _definitely _doesn't want to do.

Instead, he just flops back down and waits for her to finish. Eventually she does, slamming his door behind him and he rolls his eyes before sliding out of bed. He has his back turned to the door as he makes his bed, and when it creaks open again he stiffens, expecting there to be another barrage of abuse.

"I heard Mom shouting," comes a softer voice, and Ares turns to see Persephone. He relaxes a little, giving her a small smile. She nudges the door closed with her foot. "She's just worried about my Games, don't take any of it to heart."

"I don't," Ares shrugs, folding up the extra blankets he sleeps with and draping them over the end of his bed. "You'd better leave before she catches you in here."

"You don't have to be so curt with me, I'm just trying to—"

"You know Mom doesn't like you hanging out around me," he turns away from her, blinking back the tears in his eyes. "Just—I'll see you at breakfast."

He doesn't turn around until he hears his door click shut. He feels slightly bad, but he knows that they'll both get in trouble if she's found in his room. Especially on Reaping Day; his mom will probably assume that he's trying to talk her out of volunteering or something stupid like that. It's hard, because Ares knows that Persephone loves him, and he loves her too, but their parents' opinions about them differ so much that they can't just be normal siblings.

Ares supposes that there's nothing normal about having two parents as victors in general, especially in Nine, or having two houses like Quinoa and Bale were pointing out, or having a sister trained to kill, or resisting said training and making your parents hate you.

On second thoughts, there are a lot of things in his life that aren't normal.

Ares has just stepped out of the shower when he's called down to breakfast. Quickly getting dressed into a white button up, his nicest pair of jeans and a pair of sneakers—it's not the most formal outfit, but it'll do—he has to mentally prepare himself before he heads downstairs; Reaping Day is the only day of the year that they all eat breakfast together and it's never the most enjoyable situation for him. Still, it's Persephone's day, so maybe they'll focus on her instead of him.

As soon as he walks into the kitchen he feels the atmosphere shift. His mom and dad stop talking, and he has to resist rolling his eyes and storming out. He takes his place at the table and waits for them to start dishing up the food. Persephone appears a few minutes later once their parents have taken their seats too, and the atmosphere shifts once more and they start talking again, as if he isn't even there.

Ares stays silent over the discussion and it takes all of his willpower not to scarf down the food and bolt back to his room. Instead, he sits, ignored, and gets lost in his own thoughts. He glances up at the clock, wishing for it to speed up so that he can excuse himself to go and meet his friends before the reaping. But of course time is dragging on.

He's relieved when his mom starts gathering up the plates, moving towards the sink.

"I want you both down here at 8:50," she says as the water starts running. "We're leaving at nine sharp."

Ares frowns. "But I'm going with—"

"You're going with us," his mom cuts him off, her tone cold. "And you're going to be happy about it."

Ares just sighs and nods, not wanting to argue. Keeping up their happy family charade was one of the most important things about Reaping Day; his parents haven't turned to drugs or alcohol despite what they witnessed during their Games, they moved on with their lives, got married had children, which was a lot better than most Victors tended to do. And it was important for them to show that off, apparently. So every year Ares has to smile and laugh and pretend like his parents don't hate him.

It sounds so simple, but it's one of the hardest things that he has to do.

He retreats back up to his room when dismissed from the table, and hides in there until his mom calls him downstairs again. There are a few minutes where she fusses over him and Ares stands perfectly still, trying to calm himself down, telling himself over and over that she wouldn't dare hit him on Reaping Day. She quickly moves on when Persephone comes down, arranging his sister's curls and applying some lipgloss for her. When her back is turned Persephone grimaces at Ares, who has to try not to laugh.

They leave before the horn sounds, his parents having to be early. Ares is forced to walk alongside them instead of falling back like he normally would, and laugh at the jokes that his dad cracks. They hang around on the stage as everything is still being set up. The other Victors start to arrive and take their seat, but Ares and Persephone are only ushered off by the Peacekeepers when the sign ins start.

They walk around to where the booths are, joining the small queue.

"Are you nervous?" Ares whispers to Persephone as they wait.

"Not really," she shakes her head. She gazes over to where their parents are sat. "I'll be sitting beside them next year. How crazy is that?"

"It's insane," Ares laughs. He gets his finger pricked, moving into the aisle where he waits for Persephone. "Well. Good luck, I guess. I'll see you in the Justice Building."

"Thanks, kid." She smiles and they separate.

Quinoa and Bale appear after a while. Quinoa slides in next to Ares, whilst Bale is in the section in front of them. He stands close to the rope, and the three of them talk as they wait for things to get started. Ares tries to keep their minds off of the Reaping; both of them have their names in way more times than he does, but it's hard to when they're standing in the square.

Eventually, the district falls silent and the reaping begins. Quinoa slips his hand into Ares's, giving it a squeeze as the list of Victors is read out. Ares knows that there's the potential of the cameras being pointed at him at this moment; Victor's children were popular in the Capitol after all, so he tries to keep a smile on his face throughout the list, especially when his parents' names are called out.

He doesn't pay much attention until it's time to reap the female, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he tries to spot Persephone in the crowd. There's a swell of excitement growing in his chest, and as their escort, a woman named Plum, picks a slip from the girls' bowl, he feels as if he's about to explode.

The name has barely been called out before his sister is pushing her way into the aisle, hand raised high. "I volunteer!"

Ares's grin is real this time as his sister takes to the stage. His mom and dad are beaming behind her. Ares catches her eye, giving her a thumbs up as the boys' name is called. But that doesn't last for long, because it's his name that's called out.

Plum looks shocked, looking between the slip, Persephone, and his parents. Quinoa takes a step back, mouth hanging open. Bale spins around, looking absolutely horrified.

Ares starts to move, feeling as if he's about to throw up. Not only is he going into the Games despite resisting his parents' training for years and years, but he's going in against his own _sister. _As he mounts the stage he can see Persephone fighting to keep herself looking unaffected, but when they catch each other's eye again, he can see the panic.

"District Nine!" Plum says as he takes his place by her. Ares doesn't know if he's imagining the excitement in her voice, but he hopes so. "Your tributes: Persephone and Ares Barley!"

Instead of a handshake, Persephone pulls him into a hug.

It's the first time they've hugged in years.

-XX-

His first visitors in the Justice Building is his friends. He doesn't know what he expected; of course his parents would be visiting Persephone before him.

His head is still reeling, still trying to make sense of it all. He's going into the Games. He should have trained like his parents had told him to. He should have been like Persephone, taking her parents' insistence in her stride, excelling at what they taught her. Not like him, locking himself in his room whenever they brought it up, refusing to even pick up a weapon on the times that they dragged him down to the training room. He wouldn't have resisted so heavily if he knew this was going to happen though.

"I'm going to die," he moans when Quinoa and Bale enter.

"No you're not," Bale says, rushing forward to pull his friend into a hug.

"I am," Ares can feel tears welling up in his eyes. "I—I can't kill anyone, and Persephone deserves this more than I do. She's trained her whole life for this! I've just been sitting in the fields and—"

"Ares, listen," Quinoa moves forward, taking Ares's hand in his own. "You _can _do this. You know it. You deserve this just as much as your sister and..." he trails off, looking to Bale who just gives him a nod. Ares notices that Quinoa is shaking. "I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, but... but I like you. _Like like you_. And I want you to come home. Please."

Ares is stunned by the confession, looking between both of his friends. "You—You knew this?" He asks Bale who nods. "I—Quinoa, I—"

"Just take this," Quinoa presses a coin into his hand. "It brings me good luck whenever I have it."

The peacekeepers open the door, announcing that their time is up. Ares hugs both of his friends, thanking them for visiting him. Thanking Quinoa for his token. He watches as they're taken away, and the door barely shuts before his parents appear.

Ares sinks onto the couch, looking down at his shoes. They don't carry the same anger that they had this morning, but Ares is still slightly scared of them.

"If you hadn't have resisted so much you could have—" his dad starts, but Ares cuts him off.

"Training doesn't matter," Ares shrugs. "Not when I'm in with Persephone. I'm not killing her. I—I'm not killing anyone."

"There's no time for this pacifist bullshit now, Ares!" His mom yells. Ares flinches. "You'd better not make us into laughing stocks whilst you're in that area. I swear—"

"Get out," Ares says, his tone similar to the one that his mom had used towards him this morning, icy cold, the coin that Quinoa had given him cutting into his palm as he clenches his fists. "Just get out. Leave me alone."

Thankfully they do, leaving Ares alone in the room. His breath hitches in his chest, and he has to stop himself from crying. He's going into the arena and all they care about is their reputation? Figures.

He unclenches his fist, looking down at the coin. At least he has two people rooting for him.

Two people to return home to.

* * *

**Thank you to kgeezy for both of these tributes! I hope I did your wonderful characters justice.**

**Thank you to everyone else for reading! The reaction to the last chapter was absolutely insane, and I'm thankful for everyone who has submitted tributes to, followed/favourited, and reviewed this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as you enjoyed the last! What do you think of these tributes?**

**~Semi Serious**

**P.S: happy Tony day to my fellow musical theatre kids! Who are you rooting for to win? Hadestown and Beetlejuice all the way for me! I'm staying up until 4AM my time to watch the awards, so I'd better not leave disappointed!**


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